


A Part of Your World-the view from beyond

by SprainedMyAnkleFlippingtheFirewall



Series: A Part of Your World (the Magnus Archives AU) [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: DO NOT BURN A WRITERS NOTEBOOKS, Multi, Other, experimentation with death is only acceptable when Oliver is there to supervise, simon throws the best avatar parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SprainedMyAnkleFlippingtheFirewall/pseuds/SprainedMyAnkleFlippingtheFirewall
Summary: “It’s all very straightforward, we go in, we get the costumes, we get out.”“So...they won’t be able to perform the ritual without these?”“No. It just won’t feel as dramatic without some significant skin. So they’ll have to put it off until they find something else that can fit the job.”“Damn, really got me sympathizing with the Stranger here-hang on, did you say ‘skin’?”
Series: A Part of Your World (the Magnus Archives AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124258
Comments: 17
Kudos: 3





	1. Details regarding the team’s hunting and feeding process

**Author's Note:**

> This is part three of the entire story, which is basically about a Spiral/Web oc who finds her way into the world of the entities, ends up befriending Annabelle and her team of avatars, and the increasingly serious problems she gets into.  
> Going to the first two parts is recommended bcs the plot would make more sense. An index is provided at the end of this chapter.

It had been a month or so, and Ryan had gotten a very good idea of the group’s feeding habits. All except for Agnes, who remained a mystery in this aspect.

Annabelle, as was the style of her entity, preferred to set her mind to long term projects, things that would take time and dedication to design and slowly bring into motion. She was also particularly fond of utilizing the internet, frequenting platforms with various social media accounts when she wasn’t designing sites of her own. The web was convenient for disregarding physical space, but she didn’t have anything against going into the crowd to hunt in the old fashioned way, as she had mentioned once or twice. 

Mike and Jane were more casual with their picks, taking from whoever he happened to come across. Jane had a special preference for landlords. Mike did not come to the city center very often, apart from the group’s activities, and often left to faraway places when he wanted a change of ‘flavor’. Though their personalities differed, his feeding style was very close to Simon’s. (Maybe all Vast avatars did something similar.)

Out of them all, Sasha was perhaps the one who took the most thought to this aspect of ‘avatarhood’. Outside of her job at the Magnus Institute, she had a collaboration with the local police station, and helped out with them out with interrogations or entity specific cases. In the rare case when these were not frequent enough to satisfy, she preferred to take from other avatars or generally bad people that had not received punishment for it (you’d be surprised how many there were, just in the abusive family member category alone). With her powers, these people were not hard to find, and she was careful not to ever let her hunger get too overwhelming and hold her back from putting in the effort.

Jon was much busier with work in the Archives itself, and tried for the same when he could. 

For Ryan herself, she mostly searched for whoever would be particularly ‘open’ to receiving that kind of thing. There would always be plenty of those. She had considered Sasha’s offer to collaborate with the police but found it too confining for her taste.

Sometimes it would be a small scene. A smiling cat that was normal again when you blinked. An unnatural amount of ravens perched along the lamps and window ledges of a particular street that turned their eyes to gaze at you as soon as you realized their strangeness. Small snacks.

Sometimes it would be bigger things, completed stories.

She leads a child who had been bullied at school to a patch of grass in a park and shows them how the cloud makes pretty shapes in the sky. She tells them about the kingdom in the sky, where they originally came from, and to where they belong, and if they ever feel bad, they can think about the kingdom in the sky. If they ever wish to give up, it will be waiting for them to return, a home up in the clouds. 

For the most part she has to go out of her way to search, but because of the flexibility of her powers, a few would run straight into her.

There is a racist man standing in line behind her. He is very accostumed to being vocal about these opinions, the raised tone of his voice says it. He wants people to hear. He wants her to hear. So she does. She turns around and asks him to stop.

Please stop.

Please.

Please.

Tears fell down her cheeks. He was hurting, she knew it. Hurting like she was, like she had been countless times before, as the weight of his narrative had cut her and those she cared about again and again. All those subtle sentences, stashed together, gathered into one single vice around her brain and now around his, slowly tightening, squeezing until all the blood was dry. The aesthetics of the awful grind, of the smallest paper cuts, emerging just when one dared to imagine that one could be rid of them.

She let the narrative flow.

When the girl began crying, he was actually taken aback. New insults rose on his tongue, and he was about to hurl them out when he realized that the voice that begged was his own. As soon as he realized this, the pain realized him. 

She had no patience for long term projects to feed on. She knew that Michael had a thing for them, but couldn’t quite bring herself to be that dedicated towards a single person.

Certain projects on the side, however, she did find a motivation in.

After checking to make sure no other avatars were close by, she allowed herself to see the webs. Millions upon millions of layers, going in all directions, connecting everything that could choose. 

These were all the aesthetics of the Mother, their current world more or less belonged to the Web, after all. Quite ironically, it helped clear her head, calm her down, to look directly at those strands, to realize with such clarity their existence and pervasiveness. Out of the corner of her eye, one of them caught her attention. One that stood out against the rest with that clear taste of the fear that spoke to the Mother’s more direct influence. She did not need to check the handiwork with care to know whose it was.

Ryan shifted her vision back to the physical world, following the web, she walked.

There, across the street. In a long black dress, unkempt hair, glasses. Walking with her head down.

She followed.

She did not have a plan in mind just yet, but then again, she probably couldn’t plan to save her own life. It was always more of her style to walk into situations and then decide.

_ One step at a time, then. _

She followed the young woman home. 

For the most part she did not enjoy recycling old aesthetics, but that was inevitable. There were only so many nightmares that she could hold in a single week, seven consecutive nights, and only so many films/ songs/ memories she could keep fresh in her mind. Sometimes a convenient situation will pop up, like that racist guy, and she would be able to improvise with an aesthetic that was already constantly in her mind, but it took luck.

Outside of the hallucinations themselves, she searched for certain tools that might be useful for creating more variety.

She caught a whiff of its presence as she was wandering the outer edges of the city. A pleasant surprise.

It was an abandoned funhouse, the paint old and worn, dust covering most surfaces. Miraculously, the light was still fully functioning, casting all of the shapes and colors into sharp focus. The Stranger always had the best aesthetics, second only to the Spiral of course.

After double checking that there wouldn’t be anything remarkably powerful inside, she went straight for the mirrors.

She was faced into one of them and running a finger down its faded golden frame when she saw a figure approaching from behind. Stifling a gasp, she straightened but did not turn, staring at its reflection. It was a tall man, wearing a circus performer’s costume, a slightly worried expression in his eyes, which she realized half a second later, were made of marble. One of the Circus. But its presence had been so faint that she’d hardly noticed when first entering,

“Um, probably not a great place to sneak up on people, a room full of mirrors.”

“I wasn't trying to sneak up on you. You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous.” the voice was soft.    
“It is your place?” she knew it wasn’t. There was something about him that told her he was a stranger in this place as much as she was. He looked like he’d just wandered in, or even, had run away here, for some reason.

“Maybe.”

“Will I be in danger from you?”

“No. It’s more of the place.”

She turned her attention back to the mirror, trying her best to ignore his figure as it stood still as a statue a few meters behind her. The uncanny valley aura wafting off of him was gripping her by the throat, but she suspected that it didn’t bother her as much as it would a normal person. The Spiral and Stranger were close in many respects. 

“Um, that’s unfortunate. Can’t leave at the moment though. I’ve got to find...something.”

“What are you looking for? Perhaps I can help.”

She turned, found his eyes for a second. They were reflecting light in the way that normal eyes wouldn’t.

“I’m searching for a mirror that is completely flat.”

“Why?”

“Um, a perfect reflection will be enough for most cases, people are already quite distorted, wouldn’t want to risk distorting their reflection so it looks normal again.”

The next few minutes are quiet as they search. From behind her Ryan occasionally catches the sound of a mirror being shifted. Other than that, her strange helper seemed to move without a sound.

“There isn’t any.”

The verdict was abrupt as his entrance had been. She sighed, glancing around the room a final time, and admitted that he was right. 

“Why don’t you ask your Michael instead? He has some in his corridors doesn’t he.” The performer looked at her, smiling slightly at his own suggestion. 

Reluctantly, she went to Michael instead.   
  


//

Ryan: I think I met the contact we have for the Circus, the one you mentioned that tipped us off about the unknowing?

Annabelle: Yea, Danny likes to wander about whenever he can. Where did you meet him?

Ryan: On the outskirts of the city. There was a funhouse. 

Annabelle: Sounds like his kind of place. He didn’t give you any trouble did he?

Ryan: Oh no, he was very nice actually.

Annabelle: Yep, sounds like him.

//

//  
Brief Index of all character appearances in case anyone wishes to search for specific parts

Chapter Index  
Part 1. the door-chaotic protag stumbles into becoming an avatar through some work and a lot of luck  
Chapter 1. Enjoy Sky Blue  
Simon Fairchild, Mikeale Salesa, Gerry Kaey  
Chapter 2. A Commission  
Michael  
Chapter 3. Weaver  
Annabelle Cane

Part 2. stepping over the threshold-the protag becomes part of a group of random avatars in the city  
Chapter 4. Initiation  
Annabelle Cane, Jonathan Sims, Agnes Montague, Sasha James, Mike Crew, Jane Prentiss, (previous characters will later be referred to as 'the team'), the oc’s actress friend Christine Wachowska  
Chapter 5  
Mike Crew, Christine  
Chapter 6. Missions and Chill  
Annabelle Cane, Jonathan Sims, Agnes Montague, Mike Crew, Jane Prentiss, Oliver Banks, some Cats (capitalized because Cats Are Important)  
Chapter 7. “One of Us”  
Christine, Jane, the other members of the team (briefly), Michael  
Chapter 8. Perspective  
Anges, Mike, Annabelle

Part 3. the view from beyond-the protag dispels a few threats in various extreme ways  
Chapter 9. Details regarding the team’s hunting and feeding process

Chapter 10. Fire  
The team, Brandon Douglas (an oc Desolation avatar bcs I didn’t want to use anyone from the canon for this role), Mustermann (briefly mentioned)  
Chapter 11. Water  
Oliver, Brandon  
Chapter 12. Up High  
The team, Simon, Gerry, Michael, a bunch of other people whose names weren’t mentioned but who are present (it’s a party after all)  
Chapter 13. Safety Precautions  
Simon, Christine  
Chapter 14. Exhibitionist and Voyeur  
Jon, Sasha, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood (briefly)

Part 4. ???-this part and its appearances will not be summarized because doing so would give away the plot, I might decide to update it later on  
Chapter 15. The Little Thief  
Chapter 16. Identity  
Chapter 17. What Michael mentioned in the last chapter  
Chapter 18. Leaving  
Chapter 19. ???  
Chapter 20. In the Silence After  
  



	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a tragedy is barely prevented and revenge is placed on the calendar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: burning, Desolation related emotional trauma, depression (implied)

By Annabelle’s count, it was roughly three weeks before the Unknowing would take place, and the team needed to do whatever they could to stall it. The final step would not be of their concern, and would be completed by a fellow nongovernmental organization known as “The Hunters”. So far, all Ryan had heard from the group was that they did not get along very well with these people, but were both quite adamant about stopping highly destructive rituals.

“It’s all very straightforward, we go in, we get the costumes, we get out.”

“So...they won’t be able to perform the ritual without these?”

“No. It just won’t feel as dramatic without some significant skin. So they’ll have to put it off until they find something else that can fit the job.”

“Damn, really got me sympathizing with the Stranger here-hang on, did you say ‘skin’?”

It was another chilly overcast afternoon, and Ryan was at least glad that it did not include getting up at the butt crack of dawn, though being chased by a policeman and a member of the Desolation through the parking lot of an abandoned theatre was honestly not something she could enjoy at any time of the day. 

Annabelle and herself were on team “cause as much of a distraction as you can” while Sasha took the rest of the crew inside to take what they needed (with Agnes as their de facto bodyguard). 

“We got it, come on let’s go, let’s get out of here!” Sasha’s voice sounded from over the com, and Ryan had barely removed what remained of the hallucinations that had drawn the costume’s guardians outside when she felt a distinct sense of dread. 

Sure enough, someone had noticed them. 

The man did not seem...all that much strange, Ryan thought, somewhat detachedly as Annabelle and herself made their way across the parking lot at full speed. The weaver had attached strings to all of them that would ensure a certain amount of immunity from the Stranger’s mental shenanigans, but it was still best to avoid engaging headon. 

“Have they got a basically human makeup? The...whatever chasing us?” She called to Annabelle, who was a few steps in front,

“Yes!”

“Do they have nerve signals?”

“What?”

“Nerve, like...serotonin receptors?”

“I think so?”

Swinging around, she slowed for a few seconds enough to send a shot of heavily dosed hallucinogens into the right shoulder of their police-uniformed purser, who was almost upon them when he stopped and held a hand to his head. Farther into the distance, the Desolation avatar who Annabelle had kept from getting too close met her eyes for a second, before Ryan turned back and continued the retreat.

(partial) Sasha James’ notes regarding recent activities of certain groups

cult of lightless flame and the circus might be working together/ all avatars who seek destruction might be doing so. 

Check if Magnus is involved.

Possible collaboration with Simon Fairchild? Some other organization that’s being funded by these three?

Check: Alleged Claims of the Tundra docking, connections to the above?

  
  


When Ryan returned home that night, her bookshelf was on fire.

Agnes could barely process the mess of noise that came from the other end of the phone call,

“Calm down, calm down, tell me what’s happening.”

“They’ve burned, they-God I don’t know, I think it’s that cult member we saw at the theatre earlier, his burning my notebooks-please you’ve got to help, I’ll do anything just please make it stop-”

“Give me your address. Don’t go near it, I know you want to. Don’t go near it. Just, give me your address and stay away from the shelf. It’s going to be alright.”

As soon as she heard what had happened, Annabelle called a video chat for the entire group.

She had expected Ryan to take it rather hard, but was still surprised by how disheveled the writer looked, sat at her desk in the living room, the camera pointed deliberately away from what was left of her bookshelf. 

“You guys are all...safe, right?”

“Yes, we’re okay. How are you doing?”

“I managed to save half of them.” she said, quiet.

“There was a note. Among the ashes.” She held it up to the screen.

_ your friend is next. _

“Don’t worry, it’s not you guys, it’s Chris- um, my, my actor friend. I don’t know how he found out, he must have seen us together, or...or something, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“It’s alright, we can help. If this is a serious threat, we’ll handle it together.” Jon said,

“It’s fine...it’s, pretty specific, I don’t want to get you guys in this mess-”

“Don’t be silly, you were out doing something with us, we’ll handle it together.”

“Is-is there a way to bring it back?” she looked as if she knew the answer already

“No.” Agnes replied.

“It’s...Alright. Um. Who is he?”

“Brandon Douglas. One of the Desolation’s, though I don’t think he’s with the cult? I don’t recall ever having met him.” Agnes said,

“I could contact him, tell him to knock it off. It’s probably not a real threat, I think he wanted to mess around-” 

“It’s fine, it’s just...I think I know what I want to do.” On the screen, Ryan’s expression was a strange mask of calm, but Annabelle recognized the pain she had momentarily shoved beneath it.

“Ok. If you’re sure. If you need us to help with anything, just ask.” the weaver said,

“And if you want to stay behind and talk for a bit, I’m free tonight.”

“The city doesn’t always take kindly to new arrivals, I should have told you sooner, but to be honest I wasn’t expecting something like this to turn up.”

“It’s fine. Annabelle. You-you don’t need to worry about me. It’s probably nothing compared to what other people have suffered at the Desolation’s hands.”

“It’s not though.”

The writer sighed, looking like she would cry if she spoke another word.

“They’re all I had. My notebooks. When I came to attend college in this country, I didn’t bring anything else, and by now I’ve forgotten most of what I owned before 18. I didn’t want to be burdened by all of that stuff, but the notebooks, from when I first started writing stuff, years and years of random stuff. I really couldn’t leave them behind. It’s...hell I don’t even look at most of them, there’s not a lot that’s useful, practically speaking. My old writing is pretty bad. But I just wanted them with me, you know? Sorry, I’m, what, using you for a therapy session or whatever.” She covered her face with one hand, hiding what looked halfway between a laugh and a grimace.

“That’s okay. It’s been a while since I’ve felt attached to things in that way, but I think I understand.” 

“God, it’s so hard to believe that they’re just gone now. And whatever was in them that I don’t remember anymore, I’ll never see again, like they never existed.”

Annabelle stayed silent. She knew there was nothing to say to that.

For a moment they stayed like this, quietly drinking in the other’s presence through the screen, before Ryan thanked her again, and turned in for an early night.

“Goodnight dear, and good luck on whatever you’re planning to do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was both extremely hard and sort of pleasing to write not gonna lie. Things have not yet fully reached the lowest point but I can say for sure this is the most painful experience the protag will go through.


	3. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the protag nearly dies, but it’s okay because Oliver Banks is there to supervise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: troubling experiences related to water, existential stuff (slightly).  
> This one is going to be slightly heavy. The protag is gradually stepping into that world in a way which will make it much harder to leave.

As planned, Ryan skipped the next week of meetings that the group had, popping into the chat only to check that their destinations did not overlap.

She still remembered the rough direction of Oliver’s flat, and with the sense of his presence to guide her, had soon found her way to his front door.

She did not pause. 

Oliver Banks was surprised enough to find the Spiral avatar on his doorstep, but even more so by how she looked. 

The metallic tang of fear drifted off her figure with an intensity that rather confused him (his presence wasn’t really this intimidating, was it?) And, beneath that, an empty kind of sorrow mixed with touches of despair. He recognized the feeling too well.

The Spiral and the Web’s touch on her were fainter now. If they were meeting for the first time, he might even have mistaken her for one of his own. 

“Can I help you? Has something happened?”

“I need to ask a favor.” Her voice was trembling slightly, 

“Um, have you ever seen the movie  _ Constatine _ ?”

“What?”

“Like, it’s a movie, and there’s a scene in it where the protagonist-”

“Hold on.”

He decided to invite her inside first.

In the living room she sat, shaking her head to his offer of coffee, and in a few minutes, he found out why.

“You are saying you want to experience...the aesthetics of...drowning?” He tried to make it sound as casual as possible.

“Yes. Don’t actually drown me, of course. Um, I figured you’ll be able to know quite well if I’m nearly...yea.”

“And this is for protection against a Desolation avatar?”

“Yes.” A curt nod, her hands clasped together between her knees.

“So, can you do it? I mean I totally understand if you can’t...we barely know each other and this is rather a...big thing, I suppose? But for what it's worth, we’ll be able to make sure this doesn’t get traced back to you.” She looked up, and Oliver knew from meeting her eyes that she did not mean to understand anything. She meant only to do what she had come here for. There was a tiredness somewhere behind that determination, something he had once felt when pushed to take drastic measures to obtain what he wanted. Of course, he had failed, ultimately, but he sympathized. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t make that much of a difference really, in the end. 

He hadn’t realized how long the silence had gone on for until she broke it and tried for a joke,

“Besides, you get a late night snack out of it.”

Oliver barely suppressed a grimace at that, but he appreciated the effort for humor (and the...candor). 

“Alright. Um, wait here, for a bit.”

He did not bother to ask why she even trusted him. Maybe she just had a knack for these things, but more likely, it felt like she was prepared to do it either way, though the taste of that choice was buried so deep that he doubted if his guest even knew it herself.

The wait was the hardest.

Ryan tried for some interaction with the cats, but her mind wasn’t really in it. In the absence of the bubbly atmosphere of the group, the apartment was much more empty, and cold, and it reeked of the End. Its whisper like the presence of death itself (or any kind of ending really), only tangible in the absence of other activity or movement, and in those moments, especially overwhelming.

The sound of running water coming from the bathroom was like sandpaper against her eardrums. When the idea first came to her, it had seemed so easy, of course it would be painful, but...not as difficult as she was now coming to realize. But she couldn’t leave, she had almost made a run for it when he opened the door and she was blasted with the sheer force of that presence, but of course there was no way for her to leave, there never was. She didn’t want to leave. She sat and waited.

_ God how long did it take to fill up one bathtub? _

After what felt like hours as Ryan sat, immobile, trying to disappear into the couch, Oliver stepped back into the living room.

“Um, did you bring a change of clothes?”

She started, the surprisingly practical question knocking her out of the trance-like state of nervous anticipation, and almost laughed. Of course, she had neglected to think of that part.

“It’s fine, I-I live pretty close, I’ll find a way. You don’t need to worry about that.” The white lie came with ease, barely bothering to hide itself, and Ryan felt some tiny semblance of energy return when she spoke those words.

This was all but gone again when she actually laid eyes on the bathtub. But even as panic ran through her mind, her body seemed to possess a will of its own as she walked over and lowered herself into the water. It was cold, as requested, but she was already shaking anyway.

“Don’t forget to close the door, we wouldn’t want to traumatize the cats.” Last minute humor.

Oliver knelt down beside her, his expression not at all grave, yet not too casual. She studied his face, wondering if he appeared at all to be eager about this.

“Um, you can control this right, you won’t...like, just want to go through with it halfway or something?” she grasped his gaze with her own, momentarily jealous of the Eye’s power and praying that her intuition was enough for the time being.

“Yes, I’m certain. I won’t let you come to any permanent harm. Though the process itself will of course be uncomfortable.”

“Yes, yes.” It felt like he was being honest? Yes, he was being honest. Yes. 

“Wait! oh no oh dear I forgot-” the thought flashed across her mind and she reached out to grab his arm before she could stop herself 

“what what?” 

“What if I react, like, in an involuntary way or something I can’t control, and it hurts you, I completely forgot about that, and it probably won't be physical, I…” 

“If anything like that begins to happen, I'll let you up.” 

“Yes, and get out of range, or or sth, or like, knock me out if you have to, I really don't want to get you hurt because of this, it’s been enough trouble already.”

“Alright alright. That also reminds me, do you want the element of surprise?”

“What?”

“The element of surprise, as part of your aesthetic?”

“Um, yes. I...yes.”

…….

“Okay, I guess-”

Without a warning Oliver’s hand was there, shoving her upper body into the water. Instinctively, she grappled at his arm, trying to ease his hold as the water crashed into her and closed around her with a finality. 

He could feel her struggles, and watched as the signs of her life began to ebb away. Yet above the surface of the water the world was quiet and calm, a dissonance he was all too familiar with. She was glaring up at him, her gaze frantic, reaching for his eyes, and he tried his best to avoid looking back.

Afterwards, as she reemerged from the water and sat against the tub, trying to catch her breath, he decided it was best not to come in close contact with her for the moment, even for the sake of comfort. He decided to make her a cup of coffee instead. 

Across the living room table they sat, the girl wrapped in a large towel and reveling in the relief of the entire ordeal being over, obviously not wanting to leave just yet (besides, her clothes were still wet, and he knew it would be cold, she’d probably lied about living close by). It was alright, Oliver did not really mind the company. He asked again the question she dodged from earlier,

“Has something happened?”

“Oh, not really, um, other than getting that threat.”

“Oh. It’s just...when you first came in, it felt like you were dead.”

“I suppose I am. Well, physically not, but...that’s not really what always matters the most. The Desolation burned, um, some notebooks of mine. It felt like it because I’d assigned them a very high value...I was probably asking for it, assigning such value to those things that losing them...has the same significance as dying.”

“It...takes courage to assign value to things that cannot last.” he tried for some reassurance, though it was half a lie and he knew she could see it.

“Not a lot. Not really, they’re pretty much the only thing I dare to assign any sort of permanent value to, my writing and stuff.”

She took a long drink from the cup.

“I-thank you. To be honest, I really didn’t know if I could trust you...but it’s not like I had any other choice if this was what i wanted to do...I thought I...might as well. Yea.”

“It’s okay. I hope it proves helpful.”

Sunday. Ryan decided she did need Agnes’ help after all, but just a little. She also considered getting some kind of fireproof material beforehand, but thought that might dampen the effect on her end.

After getting a sense of where he would be, she left alone. 

The street was not quite empty enough, but she didn’t know if she cared much in the moment. Catching up to where he stood, and hoping that crowd based apathy would be enough to cover whatever happened next, she reached for his chest without hesitation.

If the passerby in that particular street had looked directly, they might have seen the horror in his eyes, how he had gasped and struggled but all the while not really moving a muscle. But they had no reason to, and so they did not. All that anyone might have noticed out of their peripheral vision was a man who seems to have suddenly fallen asleep, slumped against the side of the pavement. 

It was hours later, during closing time, when a homeless woman (poor girl, bless her soul) finally took notice, going over to wake him and finding that he would not wake.

Ryan didn’t know if she’d meant to from the very beginning or if it was that rush of adrenaline that had made up her mind once it was in motion, or that terrible pain as her palm made contact with his body, but she wanted to make him feel it, the water pressing in on her lungs, the white hot panic that death was coming and there was no way to prevent it, the useless struggles, Oliver’s hand pressed down on her chest, and she wanted to keep making him feel it while she listened to the music of all of that confusion and fear as he experienced what was so obviously not real. Of course, it didn’t matter whether he was really underwater. When she lifted her scoured palm from his chest, placed there more suggestively than to actually exert pressure, he was dead. 

He had tried to put up a fight, would have won too if she had not thrown in that element of surprise before he could fully comprehend what was going on. Had she been half a second late, or he been more prepared, she would be currently taking the shape of a big pile of ashes. 

A strange calm flooded her chest as she made her way to the nearest hospital. And a distant thought that she should probably be feeling something more. As much as she tried to think that it was to make sure Christine would be safe, she knew deep down that it was the notebooks. 

That night, Ryan received a text message from Oliver.

Congratulations, I take it the plan went okay.

  
  



	4. Up High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a party happens and a lot of people are invited, friends are made, threats are given and there is cake for everyone. Certain old faces make a return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no cws for this, the jolliest of the chapters

Simon Fairchild was not the only person with the influence to pull off a party with most of the avatars around the city and make sure that it would be more party than war zone, but he was certainly the only one of these people who had a mind to do so.

Even back when the different sections were more antagonistic, it had not bothered him the slightest. The invitations were sent, the preparations made, and whoever wanted to show up (there would usually be a lot of these), would have the evening and entire night to put aside whatever other shenanigans they worried about and enjoy themselves. Partying and politics ought always to be separate, though it wouldn’t bother him to see potential enemies/ allies chatting it up all serious on the dancefloor. Simon didn’t really care, but he knew how much of a precious neutral ground these events presented to his guests. 

For the most part the guest list remained unchanged. The various cults around the outskirts and in the center (most declined, but in recent years the more vivacious of their members would show up alone), an assortment of more sociable individual avatars, the Magnus Institute people (the Eye nerds were always such fun to harass), the other members of the larger families (only one of them ever showed up but he would always send an invitation to all the Lukases), etc. Since their establishment as something of a proper group, he’d be sure to put an initiation through to Annabelle and her friends as well. And of course, there was that band of Hunters. He made sure to include them in the invitation, and was pretty certain they were not going to attack any guests while present. To be honest he wouldn’t really care if they did so, but it would put off the other guests from future attendance and that would be quite unfortunate.

Ryan had arrived early, for the principle of getting a look at the scene before it got a look at her, considering the potential size of the party, as the others had informed her.

The event was held at what looked like a large family estate, though which of the large families owned it was hard to say (she doubted the Lukases would be okay with a party being thrown in any of their establishments, but considering who had organized it, it was hard to say whether Simon had somehow talked them into it). 

There weren’t a lot of people yet. She spotted their host out on the balcony, chatting it up with a few others who were all dressed more formally than he was. In a room that was decorated to look twice its size with a huge mirror covering an entire wall, she saw someone else she recognized.

“Gerry? Fancy seeing you here.”

Gerry Keay shrugged. He was dressed in his usual black leather jacket, and dispelled any of her worries of having dressed too much for this event.

“Most things here are…tolerable. Besides, never want to miss a good party.”

“You know, I’m surprised Simon’s not hosting it in the sky, or some cliff edge or something.”

“The guests might be slightly concerned if that were the case.”

“I would totally still go.”

“Hm, I have no doubt about it. You’re here with Annabelle and her lot?”

“Yes. They’ll be here soon I think.”

“So I take it that the talk did not go well.”

They were walking up the stairs to the second floor when this question was dropped, and Ryan slowed to check her surroundings,

“If you don’t want to talk about it we can do another time, but I’m pretty sure we’re safe discussing them here.” Gerry reassured her,

“Alright…it’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, but I would prefer that you didn’t mention my meeting with the Hunters to…Annabelle and the others with her. The talk was actually okay. I mean, they totally still saw me as some sort of monster, but they were nicer than I probably deserved, definitely more than I expected. Daisy Tonner filled me in on what they did, it was quite similar to what you told me. They were very direct about it. What put me off was the…there were some members that seem to be more ardent about the whole deal than I would be comfortable with.”

“Yea. Being a part of them certainly demands more commitment than your current group, at least on the surface. I would say they were generally nice because they’re looking to recruit. You…certainly attracted a lot of attention, even more so now with what you did to that Desolation bloke. It’s your choice, of course, to stay with Annabelle or do whatever. But…do be careful. Trust me, a balance is hard to maintain when you want to skirt that line between monster and human.”

“Of course. I, yes. Noted. I-thank you for connecting me to them.”

“It’s nothing.”

A few minutes later as two of them journeyed the upper floor and gossiped about everyone else’s attire, Gerry left to talk with a few other people, and Ryan stayed near the entrance of the stairway, quietly observing the guests who came up the stairs. A few glances were thrown her way, and she could feel the attention of a few Eye avatars that were not present, but for the most part she did seem to stand out.

Lost in thought, Ryan abruptly noticed that the banister of the stairwell was in the shape of an equiangular spiral, like in sea shells. Before the urge to slide down it could fade away, she looked over to check that no one was blocking the path, and leaped up onto its surface.

Unfortunately, there was a certain something leaning against its smooth wooden surface that had not been there a moment ago.

She let out a half yell, too late to stop herself from running straight into it.

The impact was one of the strangest things she’d ever experienced. As the colors around her returned to a more or less normal state, she thought she heard a quiet chuckle.

“Sorry, I really didn’t see you there the first time-wait you did that on purpose didn’t you?” She frowned up into the gleeful face of the Distortion, still leaning against the stairwell. Michael had apparently managed to take her impact without spilling the cup in his hand, although it did look to have changed color, probably.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked,

“I-I’m neutral, neutral about it.”

“Oh you’re no fun. I am absolutely delighted to see you, though.”

Before Ryan could step away, hands reached out and gripped her waist, the cup tucked away between two long fingers. She sucked in a panicked breath, but stayed still,

“Um, Michael, what-? What the hell?”

The touch was all wrong, but the pressure was more or less gentle as Michael lifted her off the ground and up onto his shoulder. She sat there, still somewhat confused, but glad that she was not bleeding out with giant knife wounds down her sides.

It was, needless to say, very...high, up there. He shifted his stance and she swayed, flinging out an arm to catch his other shoulder and steady herself. From across the room, a group of Vast avatars turned their heads, Mike Crew among them, there were a few snickers.

“Hold on.” Michael smiled, blonde curls brushing the side of her arm.

“What are you doing?” she hissed down at it, tightening her grip as he began going back down the stairs

“I was thinking it’s about time I introduced you properly. We could make quite the duo, you and I. Would the vertigo be better if I held onto you?”

“No! Put me down.”

“No ;)”

“Hey, Annabelle! Over here!”

“Ryan. Why are you on Michael’s shoulder?”

“I’m…his mascot…thingy...for the day, apparently. (wearing a fluffy dress with wild swirling colors and a pink / black plaited wig, she did rather look the part) But listen I’ve got to-” 

“Well, in that case, have fun you two!”

“Wait-hang on-”

The next few chaotic minutes consisted of being carted around and ‘displayed’ to random people by Michael. And, even worse, Ryan found that she was slowly beginning to enjoy it. As his accounts of her were met with the same attentiveness, and either appreciation or disbelief, the smile in his voice gradually found its way onto her face as well.

“Who’s the doll?” 

“Hu is quite a doll, yes, but you don’t want to mess with this one, I’m guessing you haven’t heard what she can do.” there was a smile brushing against her cheek. The Stranger avatar they were facing looked up at her and tilted its head as Michael continued. 

A while later, a strangely familiar tingling sensation brought her back to her senses (slightly). Maybe it was their combined chaotic presence or something, but she now felt the pronounced gaze of the two Archivists, both looking at her, and in a way more foreign than she had ever felt before. She glanced around as much as Michael’s movement would allow but could find no sign of them.

“Huh, not a thief anymore, am I?” she leaned down in between conversations and whispered into his ear.

“Not when every brick of the house has been stolen. ;)” 

“What on earth are you playing at?” 

“I’m just trying to help you fit in, isn’t that what you want?”

She did not know the answer, but up on his shoulders, leaning into his curls, she wasn’t sure she could think straight about much of anything.

As they made their way throughout the party, she saw that it was indeed huge. In all, she thought she counted seven large rooms decorated for the purpose. Conversation was very active, filling the air with a constant buzz of noise, but after most of the guests had arrived and the food was brought out, she noticed that a few clusters had begun to form.

The Hunt and Flesh (and possibly also the Slaughter or Desolation, it was hard to tell sometimes) members gathered around the snack tables, high in conversation, while the Vast, End and some Spiral people gravitated to the bars, matching the former in volume. She was somewhat surprised to see that the Hunt members consisted of a group of people that looked at first glance like they served the Eye, neatly dressed academics and a few college students. She also suspected that a lot many of them were part of the police force, but, obviously, none dressed to show it. 

All of the fellow Spiral members and Stranger avatars were terribly easy to recognize, dressed in various flamboyant or dissonant ways. Web avatars were harder to pick out, scattered across the rooms, their auras distinctly more human in comparison to the rest of the ensemble. On the contrary, the few Buried avatars stood out sharply with their forms seeming to smell physically of dirt. 

Unsurprisingly, the Corruption avatars were among those that clustered, deep in conversation with each other in various groups around the place, and all with food or drink in hand though she was sure she never noticed any of them eating any with their mouths. 

As they made their way through, Ryan noticed that most of the Eye people stood towards one side of the room lined with a mirror surface. Not soon after, she noticed that at any given instant there were always a few of them Watching her intently, and making no cover of it, sometimes staring across the room while mid conversation with someone beside them, drink in hand. She wondered if other guests received the same treatment. She had attempted to hold one of them in a staring contest, but they looked away after a few seconds. A while later, she noted with some annoyance that their gaze had returned. The looks were never hostile, nor did they carry any judgement, but neither was there approval or recognition of any sort, and after a while she stopped focusing on the tingle of their watchful eyes.

Those of the Dark that had showed up formed the quietest group of them all, and the most noticeable. All of them wore slightly colder colors, and gathered closely within a high-ceilinged room that had a bluish ambiance. There was some conversation, but for the most part the members stood around and watched the scene unfold around them in silence, their expressions unreadable. At first glance, Ryan could not even tell if they were enjoying themselves or not, but she supposed they must be if they had chosen to come. The others, for the most part, avoided direct interaction with them, sometimes gazing over with slightly dubious expressions. Michael, of course, strutted the two of them right through the room without paying much attention to the gathering. 

So far, Gerry seems to be the only one who had been marked by the others as distinctly human. The few times she saw him again, he was always deep in conversation with someone, but the people farther away would throw their glances over. She thought she heard a few hushed voices,

“How is he here?”

“Isn’t he with the-you know?”

Finally, the journey ended as she couldn't help but respond to a comment that floated over from a few Vast people, and got into an argument that could only proceed if she were also on the ground. 

“Why do you do this, seriously I need to know. Does it make you feel better in some way to refer to the Hunt avatars as ‘dogs’ or dehumanize them in some other way?”

Climbing off of Michael’s shoulder to face the small group she had addressed, Ryan did not notice as the Distortion made his way back into the crowd before leaving through its usual door on the nearest stretch of wall, the smile still hanging from its lips.

A few more drinks and conversations later, Ryan stepped out to the top balcony for some time alone. She had not noticed the evening slipping away and was surprised to find that night had fallen. With her back to the warm yellow glow of the party lights, she peered into the darkened scene below. 

The estate belonged, without a doubt, to the Lukases. The garden that it overlooked was huge, though from what she could make out, not extravagantly decorated. Even with the party still going strong inside, a thin film of fog hung over the entire grounds, coming into existence only as it wrapped around the scatter of street lamps, dampening their glow. 

Carefully, she leaned into the marble edge and looked over it, balancing her glass in one hand. It had been a while since she had felt so comfortable in her own skin, and perhaps she never had. The feeling was bright and familiar, but she could not put a memory to it. All of it-the general hype of the party mixed heavily with the contentment of ‘performing’ herself for a ready audience and the drink itself of course- bright and familiar and impossible to turn away from. The night wind brushed its way past her face, as if trying to wake her from-from...something, but only served to fill the space it had touched with further excitement. 

Physically, she was already tired. But in her mind, she would rather like for the party to never end. She could understand now why so few End avatars showed up. The entire affair was quite antithetical to their aesthetic. 

“Quite the view isn’t it? Though not nearly as high up as I would like.”

She turned at the voice, careful not to spill a drop of the drink, to see that her host had walked up without a sound. 

Simon Fairchild was dressed in a bright pink suit, walking stick in hand, and looked, as always, like he was having a blast. Despite the friendly atmosphere, memories of the last they had met clawed their way to the surface of her mind. She took a small step back, abruptly aware of how far they were from the rest of the actions and how close to the sky above. But, seconds later, the fear she had first felt when looking into those eyes was pushed to the background by a playful sense of comradery. They weren’t  _ enemies  _ anymore. They were the same people now, perhaps even more similar than the others inside, if Mike’s observation had been correct. What was it that he had said? Two hopeless romantics, yes. 

They had a connection. She could see it in his eyes, under the yellow light of the doorway. A smile crept back onto her face. 

“Enjoying your role as the star of the party, are we?” Simon asked, 

“Oh no, I would say you fit that role much more than I do, organizing this fabulous event and all.” Ryan replied, stepping towards him with a confidence she didn’t know she had, closing their distance and putting the two in the position for an actual conversation. 

Simon waved the compliment away,

“All a bit of lighthearted fun for me. It’s terrible when people don’t know to enjoy themselves.”

“Oh, most definitely. I’m so glad that you are providing them a valuable lesson in this area.”

“En hmm~. So, Ryan is it? Have we met before?”

“Yes. I do believe you tried to throw me off a glass platform that time.”

“Ahh yes, I recall now. Glad to see that it’s all worked out.”

“I am too. Um, I apologize if this sounds rude, but I have been meaning to ask, how did you find your way to the Vast?” fully prepared to be thrown off the balcony, Ryan decided that trying to fulfill her curiosity was worth the risk. 

She doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. Of course, the end had to arrive eventually, the partygoers dispersed and she left, feeling very exhausted. 

It wasn’t until the next morning when bits and pieces of that final conversation began coming back when she realized what she had done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Ryan is wearing one of those Melanie Martinez dresses from her music videos no I will not be taking criticism at this time


	5. Safety Precautions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a showdown occurs and the problem from the last chapter is resolved (for the time being). The city is still a very vague place, but I decided to randomly insert the place name of somewhere I was when I wrote this bcs there was no way to dodge this place name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: extremely detailed descriptions of the moments when a friendship is left behind.

_...4:30 pm...  _

_...4:30 pm...Botanic Garden...  _

How had they even ended up talking about it? Was she... asking Simon about his past acquaintances, or something…??

_ I never had many close acquaintances, and those I did have were not worth the trouble, but it is quite unfortunate that you have things to drag you down.  _ He had said.

And before that, or was it after? She had said

_...Next Wednesday...The theatre at Botanic Garden...  _

It was only 2 in the afternoon, but Ryan needed to be there early, she needed to see

_...my friend, Christine. She’s an actress. God, I would have thought she’d understand, maybe a bit more than other people. Wishful thinking I suppose.  _

His smile. His nod. As if he understood everything. A prompt for her to continue.

_ God, everything’s so hard to balance. _

Why would she say that? Why on earth would she say that?

_ She’s actually got a show next Wednesday. You know, the theatre at Botanic Garden. And I guess I could still go, though things are kind of awkward. I’m certainly hoping I could just cut everything away like you did, but I suppose we’re different with...these choices. _

Out the underground station and down the street. Ryan hoped the preparations she had made would be enough. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all. The theatre was not a very wide open space, and he might have forgotten all about this conversation afterwards. God why-why had she said that? Did it...just feel like a nice bit of personal stuff to share??? WHy???

_ I hope I’m not oversharing, but I did feel like I should elaborate after you so kindly told me your story. _

God- 

_ Oh no, not at all, in fact, I am very much intrigued. _

Dammit.

Past the gates and through the back door. The place she’d been to so many times for all of Christine’s past performances. “Excuse me, do you know where Ms Wochaoska might be….I-I’m a friend.”

She couldn't exactly have told Christine not to show up. What could she have said? Sorry I gave away your information to an eldritch abomination at a party when I was high now an old man might come and throw you into the sky so you might want to skip this performance...? 

Even now, a week after the night on the balcony, Ryan couldn’t help but cringe as she thought back to her words.

How could she have been so careless? Christine had always had trouble with higher places, of course it would be a great idea to mention her to Simon Fairchild. 

Nearly there, just down the corridor, and through another set of doors-

"Ryan! You're certainly here early, the show doesn't start for another hour."

"Yes, well, I wanted to come see you before."

Lie. Just look into her eyes, and Lie.

Ryan’s immediate thought had been to get her friend some form of protection, but the idea was dismissed. She doubted how well a person with no knowledge of the entities would be able to handle Selasas stuff, and she was certainly not about to crash course Christine in the span of a week. Unless absolutely necessary.

Eventually, it came down to it. She had to be physically present to watch out for her friend in case Simon did show up. Luckily, the search had not taken long. Ryan had found exactly what she needed in the very first place she turned to. 

She hoped it would be enough. 

"Is everything going well?" there was no sign of his presence yet.

"Yep."

"Feeling nervous?"

"Only a bit."

“Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine. Um, so I’d better let you get back to the preparations.”

“...Alright, see you out front!”

The play itself passed without much trouble. Ryan took in barely a word of the plot, her senses reaching out for whatever abnormalities might make an appearance in the audience. Afterwards, she waited out back as Christine changed and helped clean up. Most of the audience had dispersed by then, and the sky was beginning to darken.

Just as she was about to dismiss the entire thing for her own paranoia, she saw his figure, instantly recognizable as he stepped onto the other side of the garden lawn behind the theatre. His pace was slow, and he was not looking in her direction, like any other passerby out for a casual stroll. There might even have been a smile on his face as he glanced upwards to enjoy the evening view. Ryan felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end. She took a deep breath-

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting for so long.”

The door next to her opened abruptly, breaking her focus, and Christine stepped out, 

“Oh...um, are you alright?” her friend paused as she took in Ryan’s expression. 

_ So it would be the worst case scenario _ . Silently, she cursed at nothing in particular, before turning to look Christine in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A look of confusion and mild fear was all that had a chance to cross her friend's eyes before she slumped forward onto Ryan’s shoulders, out cold. 

“It’s alright. It’s safe. It’s safe here.” Ryan spoke into her ear, her voice shaking slightly.

_ Well. Fuck. _

Gently laying her down some space to the right so she would not be in front of the exit, Ryan turned to look back at Simon. He was only about 12 meters away now, but had not slowed his pace.

Casting a final glance to Christine’s figure, she walked up to meet him towards the center of the lawn.

“Ryan, was it? I certainly did not expect to see you here. But I suppose it is rather difficult for me to grasp the rationale of others.” Simon’s smile was pleasant. 

They were face to face now, close enough to touch the other if either of them stepped forwards.

“No, no. You did expect me. You  _ wanted  _ to see me here. That’s why you came.” She said, putting enough force into the reply to break past the show of civility between them.

“Is that so? Very well, I was at least hoping you would understand. Or perhaps not, and I simply sought a bit of fun, who's to say.” 

“What do you want?”

“Right now? I’m thinking a bit of perspective might do you good.”

An almost childlike playfulness passed over his eyes as he made a motion to snag her wrist. Pushing against all her instincts to back away, Ryan stepped forwards in answer to his gesture and reached for his neck, flinging the narrative she had prepared onto him as the pressure of the ground below her feet threatened to vanish. The air all around them shifted, and she shut her eyes tight, clinging onto the feeling of his skin underneath her palm. 

Her hand was still around his neck when his leg made contact with her stomach with a force not at all matching his physique. It was as if a gust of wind had punched a hole right through her middle, sending her backwards and knocking the air clean out of her lungs. Ryan was a full five meters away before she had the chance to register what had happened.

Lifting herself off the ground with shaking arms and gasping for air, she snapped her head up to take note of his next move, but Simon Fairchild did not advance, his hands massaging his throat. She had applied no pressure but supposed that this meant the aesthetic had been worth the trouble. The scene would have been quite comical had anyone happened to come across it, the two of them staring daggers at each other while trying to catch their breath. 

“Impressive, if I may say so myself.” A strange light had come on inside the old man’s eyes as he gazed at her. 

“I did wonder what it would be like. The Spiral child who killed an avatar of the Desolation, he told me. With only her lies; without lifting a finger.” 

“Stay away from my friends.” Ryan struggled to her feet. To her surprise (and small satisfaction), her voice was calm. 

“I only wanted to help you. As I said before, it's so unfortunate to have things holding us down.” Simon regained composure fairly quickly, his tone as casual as if nothing had happened. 

“I-we’re different though, I care about her, I don't want to stop caring about her, and I don't care if you think that's stupid-”

“Do you though? Do you care about your friend? You did mention her to me quite easily.” 

“Leave her alone.”

“As you wish. And by no means do I consider your stance ‘stupid’, but I do see your desire to maintain human connections rather...pointless. This is not just because of my specific perspective. You are one of us now, and the sooner you realize that, the easier it will be, for your friend as well. Of course, I won’t force you to see it that way right now. But I can assure you that you will eventually. And soon, perhaps. She’s not going to forgive you for that.”

Ryan did not reply. And a second later, Simon nodded before turning to leave.

“Very well. I should be off. Thank you for a rather exciting evening. We probably won’t meet again, but I do hope you’ll come around.” 

Ryan watched as his figure disappeared up into the clouds before crouching down to wake her friend. The anger in her chest had turned cold. Maybe it hadn’t happened exactly according to plan, but she knew that Simon had accomplished what he’d come to do.

Carefully, she sat Christine up against the wall, and lifted the dream from her mind. Her friend awakened, blinking against the light of the nearby lamp. Ryan could almost see the gears turning in her head as she began to grasp the situation.

“Are you feeling alright?”

It was the first time they had seen each other since the last dinner conversation. Ryan had wanted to give her some space, and had been considering breaking off their friendship after what happened with the Desolation avatar’s threat. But, there’s nothing like a direct crisis to make her realize that she needed her friend after all. 

Slowly, Christine nodded. 

“Here.” holding out her arm, Ryan helped her up onto her feet. The anticipation was worse than when Simon had walked across that lawn, and she dreaded the conversation to follow.

In silence they walked to the nearest bench, Ryan still checking for signs of any danger in the area. She was glad that Christine did not yet show aversion to her company, but that was probably because she wasn’t fully awake yet. 

“Do you need some water?”

“No, it’s okay.”

……

“Um, I know you’re probably very confused about--what happened just now, and I--”

“Don’t.” 

“You don't want to hear the explanation?”

“No, Ryan I don't.” Christine turned to face her. 

“These past months...I, I know now you've been up to something more than you've told me, and quite frankly, I don't think I want to know anymore. I don't want to hear how you're going to talk your way out of this one.”

Ryan knew that her friend was angry, and she knew that from her perspective, she had every right to be, but it did nothing to help as the words scraped their way along her skin, down her arms and into her stomach, where it settled like a block of ice. 

“I wasn't going to, I was going to tell you the truth. I-I wasn’t completely honest with you before about what’s been going on, and I apologize for it. And it was not an easy decision, but I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“I don't want to hear it.”

“Alright.”

Christine sighed, wiping a hand across her forehead.

“You've always...you've always been like this.”

It was as if any reply she could think of had melted in the back of Ryan’s throat. A resignation had struck deep within her, a bundle of invisible strings holding her back into her seat and into herself as she waited for the moment of judgement. 

“You never had any boundaries, or known when to hold back. And I appreciate that about you, I always have, but...I'm pretty sure this...this whole thing is one of the consequences of that, and I'm not sure I want it in my life any more."

“Okay, I understand.” Ryan replied as if in a trance,

“I just...I just thought…” _you might understand._ _Could you have, if I’d been honest from the beginning?_

“We can't all be like you, you know, running off at random to pursue whatever whimsy you come across. I’m sorry, I should have phrased that better. I don’t mean to be rude. But...an acting career is not what it looks like. I don’t know if it’s much different for you guys, but I know that I can’t afford to have my head buried in stories the way you are determined to do.”

“You could have told me sooner.”

“I suppose...I didn’t want to. It was fun to hang around with you, it felt like a relief, a break from the ‘conventional’. I was jealous of you. I still am, and it’s true that I used your ‘presence’ in a way, to distract me from everything else. And I apologize for that. Though to be fair, you did do the same.”

“I-yes. I did.”

“You were using me, I see that now. Using me as a handle as you slowly stepped down into, whatever you’re in right now. You never wanted out, not seriously. These past months...I was your crutch, something to make sure you wouldn’t descend too fast.”

“Yes.”

The apology bubbled to her lips but Ryan did not say it aloud. What good was it any longer? She would have done nothing different. 

She had hoped that they’d at least be able to sit in silence for a bit longer, but she supposed that Christine had never really been the type to enjoy pointless moments like these. Maybe she could have, if things had gone differently. But no longer. 

After a few seconds, Christine stood up to leave. There was nothing left to say as they bid each other goodnight, and when Ryan finally felt like moving again, she left as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there goes Ryan's connection to humanity~  
> As someone who is bad at breaking connections even if it’s for the better, and especially if it’s not, this was both painful and quite cathartic to write.   
> Also, just random, but I am really proud of the title of this chapter.  
> If you've kindly graced this fic with your presence thus far, thank you & I hope it was an enjoyable ride. The final part of this story will be out soon and will draw a conclusion to the entire journey.


End file.
